


Red Strings of Fate

by FlightlessEggsxo



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Red Strings of Fate, Tooth Rotting Fluff, gender neutral narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlightlessEggsxo/pseuds/FlightlessEggsxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Write about a person born with the ability to see the 'Red Strings of Fate' connecting people to their soulmate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is my first work posted on here not involved in a challenge or anything. Gender neutral narrator</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Strings of Fate

‘Red Strings of Fate’ is what romantics like to call them but I like to call them the stupid things that made my life a living hell as a kid. I had just started kindergarten when I first started seeing them. My grandparents were the first one’s that I saw that were connected. I remember staying there once and waking up from a nightmare. My grandma was sitting in the living room with the television volume low while my grandpa was sat in his office working on another boat. I had walked up to Gramma, blanket curled up against my face, with tears in my eyes and didn’t say a word as she snuggled me up in her arms while singing me a lullaby that I didn’t recognize.

I had always loved Gramma’s hands because they were the hands that picked me up when I fell down and gave me cookies when my parents weren’t looking. They were home when I was away from home and they soothed all of my fears away and so that night as she sang sweet words into my hair, I grabbed onto her hand. That was when I decided to tell her about the small string that was tied to her finger. I whispered it, pressing my face against her neck so that I couldn’t see what her face would look like if she didn’t believe me. All she did was hug me harder and press a kiss to me hair telling me that what I could see was magical and that I should always take pride in being able to see it.

I hated seeing it.

Elementary school wasn’t so bad because kids were still developing and had yet to figure themselves out so not very many of my classmates had strings. The teachers on the other hand did and I went to a large school so it got overwhelming on occasion. Lunch was fun because there were a few of the cafeteria ladies that would listen to me chatter on about the strings and would humor me, smiling and laughing along with me. It wasn’t until middle school that I realized what a curse it was.

Things started out slowly; a small, snide remark here or a teasing smile there. It was never anything to severe until I suddenly became the butt of everyone’s jokes. I was called a child because I was still telling ‘fairy tales’ and believing in things like that. Teachers were worried because they thought I wasn’t developing at the same rate as my peers and my parents took it to heart. I went through many different kinds of testing before I was deemed ‘normal’ and sent on my way. Finally the summer before the seventh grade came around and I couldn’t be more excited because it meant that I could see Gramma.

The middle of July was hotter than normal, though Gramma kept her house cool with the air conditioner and I remember her always wearing a sweater inside. Whenever I told her that we could turn up the temperature I remember her laughing and claiming that she just liked the feeling of having a sweater on. Gramps was sick all the time but was always there to smile and make Gramma laugh and it was my home away from home just like it had always been. One day, Gramps had gone out fishing with some friends of his and Gramma wanted to stay home to do some baking. I offered to stay home and help and had gone into the back room, searching for another baking sheet when I heard a crash.

Everything felt like slow motion from there. The paramedics were called as I sat crying by her side trying to make her breathe. I was torn away by one of the medics as the other two rushed in to perform CPR. Things were a blur after that until I felt Gramps sliding his arm around my shoulders while I sat in the hospital waiting room. My tears were dripping off of my face and I cast my eyes to the hand that was clenched in his lap and watched as the red string on his finger slowly came untied before falling to the floor and disappearing. My heart broke that day and I swore never to speak of it again.

Seventh grade rolled around and I had grown six inches, making me tower over the rest of the guys in my grade, and lost the rest of my baby fat while gaining a fair amount of muscle tone. I started playing football and was quickly the perfect jock with the perfect friends and the perfect girlfriend. I couldn’t look myself in the eyes when I walked by mirrors and I couldn’t make myself smile anymore. I seemed arrogant to everyone but in reality I was so broken that I thought that if I moved in the wrong way that I would shatter into a million pieces. I didn’t talk very much which suited my new attitude and my parents allowed it, confused but convincing themselves that it was just a faze.

I continued the façade into the ninth grade and onto the varsity football team where I immediately became the star quarterback. Gramps showed up to my first game and he looked so proud but I couldn’t look him in the eyes, biting my cheek until the taste of copper filled my mouth while I dealt with the gaping hole in my chest. He saw it and didn’t say anything but before he left he handed me a spool of red thread and I saw the confusion on my parents’ faces but I knew what he was giving to me and my heart clenched in my chest. I turned away so that they couldn’t see the tears streaming down my face.

I went through many relationships through high school, never caring about gender or anything like that. I did have one friend that seemed to care about my wellbeing, though, who was convinced that I was a sex addict. Little did she know that I was desperately searching to distract myself from the ache in my chest that I felt as I looked around as all the red threads in the air. There was one night that we smoked a huge amount of weed and I told her everything and I cried and all she said was that she knew while she held my hand. The next morning, I left before she woke up. She found me at school, though, blonde hair flowing around her in a flurry of motion as she jumped on my back in surprise.

“Don’t you dare run away from me again, you slug,” she had hissed against my ear and I remember my face burning while people stared. There was no arguing with her, though, so I followed her as she led me outside to where we usually sat and had lunch with our group of friends. I knew that she wanted to say something about last night but I was afraid, my mind remembering all of the things that happened in middle school. As we sat on the table, the sun beating down on us and the wind pushing and pulling at her blonde hair in a way that was obviously frustrating her.

“Can you really see them?” She finally asked, her voice quiet. I had barely heard her but I nodded while watching her hair. My heart was beating madly in my chest and my palms were sweaty and I shook my head at the irony. I could see strings connecting people to their ‘soul mate’ and yet I was having these feelings of a petty crush? Her string had showed up about two weeks prior and I had smiled that night, knowing that she had finally decided what she wanted in life, though I had felt a sliver of disappointment. That feeling was shoved deep down, though, to be thought of when I was alone and willing to deal with all of the baggage that I was carrying with me.

“Can you see yours?” That was the most unexpected question and I stared at her for a long time, watching as she turned to look at me with the most innocent curiosity that I had ever seen. She had genuinely wanted to know. I looked down at my hands, examining each of my fingers carefully before shaking my head to myself wish a scoff. I would probably never know and I told her as much. Blue eyes as burned as they stared at me before she shook her head.

“You’re such an idiot,” was all she said before heading back to class. The rest of the year was filled with instances like that. She would corner me somewhere and ask me innocent questions like that, never prying and never making me uncomfortable. It was strange with the way that she knew just what boundaries not to cross with me and I never gave it much thought, just letting it be and letting her do what she wanted. Even though she was my best friend and vice versa, we never tied each other down. We were both free birds; always wanting to go and do our own things but somehow we always found our way back to each other.  
After graduation, we didn’t speak again.

 

I went to college out of state for teaching and when I got tired of that, I changed my major to art history. It was challenging but I enjoyed it and I soon let down my guard in favor of attempting to find new ways to cope with seeing all of the threads. I spoke with many mediums who helped me understand a lot about what seeing. I got a job at a museum and moved into an apartment, happy that I was living on my own. It gave me space to think and be on my own where I didn’t have to see any threads. I started an apprenticeship under a skilled medium for three years while working at the museum which was tiring but I enjoyed every second.

I was closer to Gramps during those years and when he passed away, I knew that he died with no regrets. He would tell me about how Gramma was always so proud of me and that when they would talk to their friends or when she would talk about me she was always so proud. I think about that every time things get to be overwhelming for me. My twenty-fifth birthday, I put my two weeks in at the museum and the medium I had been working with made me a partner in their business. We became vastly popular and I did a lot of work, helping out in whatever ‘love life’ guidance I could. About a year later, I got the shock of my life.

I had been sitting with my medium friend, drinking coffee on one of the days that the house was closed. We were supposed to be cleaning up and moving things around but were procrastinating as usual when I spotted it. A thin red string tied to my pinky finger. I remember that I just continued staring while my mind spun. There was someone out there that was connected to me; that I was connected to. The medium that sat beside me watched me, not saying anything but I was sure that they knew what had happened by how elated they seemed when I finally snapped back from reality. They gave me the day off.

I didn’t have anyone else in my family that knew so I couldn’t call to tell them what had happened and the only other person that I could think of I had lost contact with years before. I walked around town aimlessly, my eyes taking in all of the red strings stirring in the air around me and for once I took comfort in them as I looked down at the string tied to my own finger. I was busy staring, so when I bumped someone an apology came tumbling out of my mouth as my hands flew out to steady them. Blue eyes stared back at me and I felt my mouth go dry as the person I had just been thinking of straightened up, giving me a bright smile while tears filled her eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to speak though, the words that I had wanted to tell her pouring out of my mouth. If possible, her eyes widened and the tears did spill then.

“Really?” She had asked, choked slightly. I nodded while pulling her out of the stream of traffic to the safety of a gated café sitting area. Blonde hair still spilled down her shoulders and my hand ached to touch it, just feel to see if it was still as silky as it was in high school. She started to laugh then, a small laugh that made me smile, before stepping to loop her arms around my neck and pull me in for a hug. The hug lasted for an eternity at least that is what it seemed like to me and when we pulled back we were both red in the face.

“Do you have time for lunch?” She asked and I nodded and we ate, talking and laughing. Every chance she got she would brush our hands together and more than once I found myself grasping her hand in my own while running my thumb over her pinky finger where her string was tied. She never questioned it, always letting me do as I pleased just like in high school. I asked her about life and learned that we had been living in the same city for years but had never run into each other which had us both laughing once again.

“I’ve missed you,” it was spoken, though I had seen it in her eyes the entire time we had been eating. I admitted the same thing and she had blushed while hiding her face from me. I teased her for it and for a while all she did was stare. When I asked what she was doing all she did was smile and huff out a small laugh.

“I like this you a lot better.” It was the only response I got before the waiter walked up to give us the bill which I paid for, much to her dismay. We exchanged numbers and hugged one last time, neither willing to let go, before going our separate ways. I had only gotten about a block away when blonde hair whipping around our faces in a flurry as she jumped on my back.

“Sorry, but I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she whispered and, even though my face burned, I laughed and gripped her thighs. We went back to my apartment and stayed up late watching movies and eating popcorn and talking. She fell asleep first, face pressed against my arm where it was wrapped around her shoulders and I lifted her hand to twine our fingers together. I watched in fascination as our red strings slowly wrapped around our hands. Tears formed into my eyes and that was how I fell asleep, tears in my eyes and my hand clutching onto hers like a lifeline.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, she wasn’t in my arms and I panicked, remembering when I walked out on her. My panic was cut off abruptly, though, when she wrapped her arms around my neck from behind me while whispering in my ear about a shower and borrowing clothes and it being in the weekend. I didn’t listen to most of it as I closed my eyes, my head falling back against her shoulder. I lifted a hand and ran it up her arm until I reached her hair which was slightly damp from the shower. Her lips pressed against my temple and I smiled before telling her that I knew who my string was connected to. Her apprehension rolled off of her in waves and her voice shook as she asked who and the only answer I gave her was in the form of a kiss, pressed hard against her lips.

 

“Are you seriously wearing that tonight?” She asks and I smile from where I’m standing at the kitchen counter, getting a glass of water. She’s mumbling under her breath about my choice of clothing as I turn around to inspect her dress that is hugging her hips snuggly. I tell her that she looks stunning and she looks shocked for a moment before flushing and turning away to hide her face. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her from behind and smile when she grabs my hand in her own. The red string wraps around our hands and I sigh.

“What’ll your parents say?” She asks and I shrug but I’m worried too. I haven’t really spoken to them since Gramps died and now I was getting ready to tell them that they were going to be grandparents. The object in my pocket was burning against my leg and pulled away, tugging on her hand so that she would turn to look at me. Blue eyes stared up at me in the same innocent confusion that always took my breath away and I smiled down at her. I tell her how much I love her.

“Love you too, slug,” she hums and I laugh before pulling the ring out of my pocket without breaking our grasp on each other. Her eyes go wide as she stares at the ring before she laughs, tears in her eyes. I catch her as she jumps, our lips colliding but separating as she laughs some more. That night, as we sit down for dinner with my parents, I catch a glimpse of the ring on her finger and feel the nerves settle in my stomach.

Red strands winding together to create a winding effect that look like strings to match the ones that tie us to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically my first posted work on here. Let me know what you think!


End file.
